Bloody Brilliant
by Sylarfan
Summary: Set after Ron leaves the tent in DH. About his thoughts and experiences during that time. Tried to stay true to the story with a few extra details. Rated T however their is harsh language used a couple times.
1. Alone With Regret

Bloody Brilliant

Alone With Regret

"And you?"

"What?"

"Are you coming or staying?"

"I…I'm staying. Ron, we said we would help Harry."

"I get it, you choose him." Ron glared from Hermione to Harry. "I've seen you two together." With his rucksack over his shoulder he turned and stormed out of the tent into the rainy, cold night.

"Ron, please!" Hermione ran out after him. "Ron, please don't go…you don't understand. Ron…Ron!"

* * *

><p>Ron felt so bitter he didn't dare turn around. POP! He apparated somewhere in London, near the Leaky Cauldron. He knew this was a mistake, but he didn't really know where else to go and he wanted to get away from Hermione's pleads as soon as possible. He was afraid if he hadn't he would have done something much worse then leave. He suddenly felt sick with guilt and was about to try to return when he heard someone yell, "Snatch 'em!" followed by the sound of many pounding foot falls. He looked over his shoulder and was tackled to the ground. He struggled, managing to forcefully swing his elbow into someone's face. "Pick 'em up." He was pulled to his feet, his rucksack pulling painfully hard against his shoulder. He felt a hand plunge into his pocket and extract his wand.<p>

"A muggle born, no doubt." The snatcher restraining him said.

"No, I'm pure-blood."

"Really? You look old enough to be in your last year. If you're pure-blood you should be there. So, why aren' cho?" said the man holding his wand.

"What's your name?" asked the man Ron had obviously elbowed in the eye.

Ron had to think fast. He couldn't confess who he really was because he was supposed to be home with a highly contagious illness. "My name is Stan…St-Stan Shunpike."

He stepped closer to Ron, examining him closely. The man standing behind him finally piped up, "That's not Stan. He looks like one 'o them blood traitors; the whole lot 'o them is ginger. What's their name, Westie or Wiley or summit like that?"

Ron's eyes darted between the two of them, hoping like hell they didn't figure out who he really was.

"He's not. He's Stan. I met 'em a few times on the Knight Bus." The crook with the black eye said, rounding on the other.

"Yeah, I've met 'em too, an' I'm tellin' you, that ain't 'em." They were nose to nose.

"Is too 'em."

"Is not."

They began to scuffle while the other two just watched, dumbfounded. Ron took advantage of the moment and threw his head back, butting the snatcher restraining him. The man let go of Ron, grabbing at his own forehead. Ron was then able to turn slightly and punched him hard in the stomach. When the man buckled over, Ron yanked his wand out of his hand. In one swift move he used it to disarm his own wand out of the other snatchers hand, caught it and apparated.

* * *

><p>He tried to return to the camp but ended up miles away. He looked down at his stinging fingers and saw that the very tips were bloody and his finger nails had been splinched off. "I really need to be more careful doing that." He said to himself. He stowed away the snatcher's wand in his rucksack and kept his own in his hand. He searched for hours, getting turned around a few times. He finally found an area that looked familiar. As he investigated, the disturbed earth and many foot prints confirmed his suspicion. They had gone, he was too late. Now he would never find them.<p>

He picked up an old fallen branch and swung it hard against a near by tree. With a loud crunching noise it broke and splintered apart. He dropped his rucksack and plopped down on the ground.

"Brilliant, Ron. Bloody brilliant." He said to himself. "This is, by far, the absolute worst you have ever fucked up in your life. And that is quite an accomplishment." He dropped his head to his knees and sighed heavily.

_Why did I leave?_ He thought to himself. He ran the scenario over and over again is his mind. _That damn Horcrux!_ It did things to him, made the emotions he was feeling ten times worse. He felt so angry and paranoid when he wore the thing. His insecurities and feelings of jealousy made him resentful of the other two, especially Harry. It was like Voldemort's soul crept inside of him, poisoning his mind and corrupting his thoughts. He swore one night he thought he heard a voice that wasn't his own, whispering things in his ears. And the dreams, the sinister dreams he had had. It made his stomach churn to recall them. They were so vivid, it was like they weren't dreams at all. He woke confused, looking over at Harry or Hermione to confirm the dreams hadn't actually happened. He would always remember them, but it would be years before he would finally confess them.

_Why am I so weak against its seduction?_ _How could it consume me so easily?_ Then he remembered Ginny. She fell victim to a Horcurx as well. It sickened him to think poor Ginny went through that at the age of 11. However, it eased his mind to know it happened to someone else that he knew to be of sound mind and have a kind heart. Which, despite his own self-doubt, he felt were a few good qualities he also held.

"Well, I guess I'll stay here for the night." He said to no one.

He cast some protective enchantments he learned from watching Hermione. He hoped he was casting them correctly. He spread out his sleeping bag and made a sort of lean-to with a small canvas tarp that was enchanted with an impervious charm to make it waterproof that his father had suggested he pack. He was glad he had because it was beginning to rain again. He pulled out a deck of cards trying to relieve his boredom and redirect his thoughts but they still turned to the incident with his friends. Eventually he nodded off to sleep and started to dream.

_He found himself back in the tent having a row with Harry, foul words pouring from their mouths. A fist collided with Ron's face which only enraged him further. He swung a fist back at Harry knocking him to the ground. Hermione stepped in front of Ron and raised her wand, hitting him in the chest with a spell. He flew out of the tent, landing in water. He came up to the surface and saw he was alone in the middle of the ocean, no land to be seen in any direction. He bobbed up and down with the choppy waves. He tried to swim but no matter how hard he kicked his feet or paddled his arms, he couldn't propel forward. His chest ached from the spell Hermione had fired at him. He looked down and saw blood spilling from the wound into the water around him. His body began to tire from treading water. The waves grew larger by the second. Letting hopelessness consume him, he stopped fighting the waves and allowed the ocean to swallow him down._

He woke with a start as a small stream of water poured out of a hole in the tarp onto the side of his face, running into his mouth. As he sat up he noticed his left shoulder and chest felt painful. He pulled his many layers of clothing away from his body so he could glance down at his bare chest. He saw his shoulder was purple and green with bruising over top of the still fresh splinch scars and his chest had a large scrape across it. It must have happened when those snatchers tackled him to the ground.

To his amazement, he had slept quite a long time. It was late afternoon. His stomach gave a loud growl. He had no food and very little water. He needed to apparate out of there, but where was he to go? He wasn't going to dare show his traitorous face at home, he was unfamiliar with muggle streets and he didn't have much money. He had no choice but to go somewhere within the magical community. He started packing up his little camp and decided that maybe the best chance he had would be to hide in plain sight. So he apparated to Knockturn Alley.


	2. In Plain Sight

In Plain Sight

Through the heavy downpour, Ron glanced around nervously, expecting to be attacked but no one paid him any mind. He wished he could change his appearance like Tonks, especially his hair color. The best he could come up with was a knit hat he had in his bag that his mother had made for him. He fished it out and pulled it down over his ears, tucking the shaggy parts of his hair under it. He decided to take his chances on the dodgy looking pub across the way. If he got caught, he would lie and claim to be muggle born, that way they would just take him to Azkaban and his family would be safe. He hoped anyway. What did he really have to lose anymore?

He walked in and felt the warmth wrap around him like a friendly embrace. He hadn't felt this comfortable in months. Astonishingly, still no one turned an eye toward him. He took a set and a very unfriendly looking waitress approached him. He nodded at her in greeting. "Fire whiskey, please, and may I see a menu?" He asked.

She gave him a scrutinizing look. "We don't serve food here." she said in a cheeky tone. It was for the best anyway, all the money he had went to the whiskey.

As he glanced around the pub he saw a haggy looking witch who appeared to be several years older then Ron. She smiled, revealing her filthy, yellow stained teeth and gave him a flirty little wave. She wasn't totally unattractive (save for her teeth) even under her tangled, matted hair and dirt smeared face. He took a gulp from his glass and gave her an uncomfortable smile. Looking down at his own mud stained hands and grimy fingernails he figured he must be blending in nicely. He threw back the last of the whiskey in his glass. His stomach was so empty that the whiskey took no time at all making him feel pleasantly light headed.

Then a few minutes later, two of the snatchers that had attacked Ron came stumbling into the pub. He turned his face away from them, feeling on the edge of panic. He touched the top of his head and was relieved in remembering his hair was covered. The men sat down right behind Ron. Another fantastic idea, you ruddy fool! He thought to himself, his heart thudding heavily against his chest. They began laughing and bragging about all the mudbloods and blood-traitors they had caught. Ron's pulse was so loud in his own ears he could only make out a few words. Then he heard Harry's name. He tried to calm his pounding heart so he could listen harder to their conversation.

"No ones found 'em yet, mate. We'dve heard if they had. Big reward I 'ear to the one that does."

"So, 'es wanted alive, then?" one asked with disappointment.

"From wha' I understand. Although, if any of 'is lit'il friends 'er with 'em, I reckon we can kill them."

"I wonder if 'e's got a lit'il girlfriend on the run with 'em?"

"If he does, we'll make 'em watch while we 'ave ourselves a bit 'o fun first." They began to laugh.

Ron suddenly felt like vomiting after hearing their discussion. He dug some coins out of his pocket and put them on the table. Keeping his face turned away from the snatchers, he casually got to his feet and calmly walked out of the pub. The cool night air eased his nausea as he tried to push the thought of the conversation out of his head. He walked on for a short time, not sure of which way to go. He heard some yelling. Then on the opposite side of the cobble stone street, he saw a man with his two children running hand in hand with another group of snatchers chasing them. What the bloody hell is happening? Ron thought to himself as he watched the little family duck down a dark ally. He was feeling more hopeless by the hour. It was getting darker and he needed shelter and food. His head was feeling awfully groggy from the fire whiskey, he needed to sit down. He took a seat on a paint chipped bench that looked scorched at one end. Someone sat down next to him. "'Ello there. What you doin' wonderin' about all alone?" It was the haggy looking witch from the pub.

"I'm just passing through."

"You look lonely, love. Would you like a bit 'o company?" She leaned over, brandishing her large bosom as they almost spilled out of her bodice. She slid her hand up his thigh.

"Um, thanks, but I'm fine." He pushed her hand away.

She leaned against him squeezing his arm. "Mmmm, you're such a strapping young lad…"

Ron stood up and began to walk away. She grabbed his rucksack and yanked him back down to the bench, sending a surge of pain through his still injured shoulder. "I'm only tryin' to earn a spot 'o food." She pleaded pathetically.

"That makes two of us, then." He tried shaking her off but she started pawing at his clothes. Her face was inches from his and her breath was foul. "Little prat! You can't afford me anyways!"

Ron was extremely agitated at this point and had had quite enough. "I wouldn't pay for you even if I could, you duff trollup!" He said and forcefully shoved her away from him. She stumbled backwards, nearly falling.

As Ron started on his way she began to follow him. "How dare you put your hands on me that way!" she shrieked. Ron turned around as she reached into the pocket of her long, tattered dress and pulled out her wand. She shot a stunning spell at him, but Ron already had his wand at the ready. He blocked it and shot it back at her, knocking her into the building behind her. She slumped down the brick wall until she sat, unconscious on the ground.

He stuffed his wand back into his pocket, looking down at the woman. "Serves you right." He said to her unmoving form.

As he approached the next block he realized he must have wondered unknowingly into a different section of town, though he wasn't familiar with the area. Across the way he saw a little market with fruit and vegetable stands out in front of it. There were several shoppers roaming the area. He made his way over.

Ron's mouth began to water and his stomach growled loudly looking at all the fresh produce and muffins and the like. He had no way to pay for anything, he would have to steal. The shop keep was distracted by a few other shoppers so he started to stuff apples, potatoes, biscuits, whatever he could lift into his rucksack quickly without being seen. After what seemed like only half a minute, the shop keep made his way over to Ron with a look of concern on his face. _Blimey, I've been caught! Should I run, disapparate?_ He thought, but then he heard a nauseating voice coming from close behind him. "Well, well, well. Where 'ave you been hidin'?" The two snatchers from the pub were behind him.

Paranoid and frightened, Ron reached for his wand and was about to make a move when the shop keep said, "I've told you, my…my name is Humphrey Turner. I'm half-blood."

The first thug shoved Ron out of the way and he fell against on of the produce stands. He had to hold on to it to keep from falling to the ground. "You're in me way." The thug said. His eyes fell on Ron's face for a few brief seconds. Ron held his breath, thinking for sure he would recognize him. "You'd best be on your way home, now." He said.

Ron let out his breath in relief. The second snatcher began speaking to Humphrey again. "Yeah, we know you're half-blood, but we also know you're a blood traitor. Takin' in a few mudbloods and hidin' 'em away." They both stepped in for the attack. Humphrey held up his wand but the first snatcher, that had shoved Ron, disarmed him. His wand landed and rolled along the ground until it came to rest against Ron's foot, who was still gripping the produce stand with white knuckles. Ron watched as the other few shoppers fled the scene in a frenzy thinking that he should do the same. But the sight of Humphrey's rattled, anxious expression made Ron feel the sickening shame of guilt in the pit of his stomach, the same sensation he had felt when he left Harry and Hermione. He wasn't going to run like a coward again and leave this man to his doom; he was going to fight for him. Isn't that the whole reason he joined Harry in his mission, to fight against Voldermort and his followers?

Ron raised his wand, "Stupefy!" He stunned the first snatcher who fell sideways, knocking into his associate. Quickly, Ron bent down and grabbed the wand resting against his shoe and tossed it to Humphrey. "Oi!" But, Humphrey missed it. Ron heard it clatter onto the ground once more.

The second snatcher turned his attention to Ron. "I know you." He said with a sneer.

"Stupefy!" Ron yelled, but the snatcher blocked the spell and sent it flying back at him. Ron felt it zoom past his head, just missing him. He took aim again, "Impedimenta!" causing the snatcher to stumble over his own feet and knocking over a produce stand. Apples of different assortments went rolling everywhere. Humphrey was about to grasp his wand he had been searching for from the ground, when a wave of apples pushed it out of sight again. As the snatcher clumsily got to his feet, Ron whispered, "Expulso," blasting the wooden display into pieces. The snatcher was thrown into the air from the force of the blast and knocking his wand from his hand. He landed hard on the cobble stone street. He began to lift himself up on his hands and feet, shaking splinters of wood from his long, nappy hair. "Levicorpus!" Ron shouted out, yanking the snatcher up into the air by his ankles.

"Stupefy!" Humphrey had found his wand. "Incarerous." Ropes immerged from Humphrey's wand tip and bound the unconscious snatchers' hands and feet together. Ron lowered his arm and the snatcher feel into a heap on the ground. A young woman came out from the shop looking slightly confused. "Humphrey, what's happened? Are you alright?" She looked around at the unconscious men. "They've found us."

"Yes." Humphrey replied. Using her wand she tied up the first snatcher, who was still stunned.

"Go tell Myrtle to get everyone ready to move locations." Humphrey said to the woman. "Do it quickly and bring James back with you. I'll need the both of you." The woman headed back into the shop and out of sight. Humphrey turned to Ron.

"You showed great bravery here tonight and I thank you. I must get my people out of here and to a safer location. I advise you to do the same and keep your wits about you." He turned back to his stunned attackers. He couldn't bare the burden of having another person to worry about. It caused him too much torment. "You best be off, they'll be more of them along soon."

"Are you sure? I might be able…" Ron stopped. In the distance, the sound of several men shouting and stampeding toward them could be heard.

The young woman had returned with a very large and powerful looking man who Ron only assumed was James. They stepped over the rubble, readying themselves for the fight. The men in the distance were closer now.

"Go on, off with you!" Humphrey shouted at Ron, aiming his wand at him. He shot sparks at Ron's feet, forcing him back. "Now, before you're seen."

Ron turned and ran into the shadows of the night, the sounds of the fight becoming more distant as he went.

* * *

><p>He apparated to the same forest he had been before. There was no hope trailing the others, this would be his life until he could come up with a better idea. He roamed the area in search of a good place to set up camp. After a while he could hear the babbling of a stream not far ahead. He found his way to it, set down his rucksack and started groping inside it for his canteen. He knelt down at the edge of the water to fill it when he noticed his reflection in the ripples of the steady flowing stream. He almost didn't recognize himself. He looked gruff and rather opposing, he understood now how he had gone unnoticed in Knockturn Ally. He looked like most of its natives, that and the fact that those snatchers were about as smart as cave trolls. He dipped his canteen into the water and began filling it when he saw some small splashes made by the many fish darting away from his disturbing movements.<p>

He set up his camp not far from the stream and decided to give an attempt at fishing.

"Accio fish." He said, holding up and whirling his wand around. A fish flew out of the water and landed next to him on the ground. It began to flop around and he tried to grab it, but it slipped out of his fingers landing at the very edge of the stream. It found the water and escaped back to safety.

He held his wand up and tried again. "Accio fish." This time he tried to catch the fish before it landed on the ground. The fish was bigger then the last, thus stronger. His fingers were freezing and numb making it more difficult to hold on. It too slipped away and disappeared in the stream. He was feeling rather regretful about all the grief he had given the other two about their lack of food. After several more attempts he was finally rewarded. It didn't taste as pleasant as he had imagined but he was able to have a somewhat full meal.

He camped there for almost two weeks. He rationed his food each day, but still had to risk another trip back to that market. When he found it again, it was boarded up and deserted. He hoped the shop keep and the others had made their escape successfully. He was cold, uncomfortable and completely downhearted. He had never felt more alone in his life then he had in those weeks, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. He was able to steal a few Daily Prophets, hoping not to see any news of Harry's capture or death. He thought of the first day he had meet Harry. He and his family had helped him on his first day at Kings Cross station, Ron explained to him all the ins and outs of the magical world. Ron had felt so proud to be friends with 'Harry Potter, the boy who lived'. Harry was more then just his best mate, he was a confidant, a brother. They accepted one another for who they were from the very start, no prejudices. They had been through so much together and no matter what obstacles they hit in their friendship, it never weakened their bond, it held strong. Until now. Even if he did find his way back, would it matter? Would Harry even want him back in his life? And Hermione. Brilliant, lovely, perfect Hermione. She was perfect in his eyes, he couldn't deny that he loved her. If only she knew that despite all the times he was cross with her or made fun of her for being a know-it-all, he secretly found her enthralling and quite pretty. It was completely foolish that he continued to keep it a secret. Instead, he turns his back on her and runs away. He felt no better then Percy, turning on the people he loved. At least Percy had his own agenda, Ron didn't even have that.

"Percy, the git." He said out loud, shaking his head and throwing a stone hard into the trees. It made his blood boil to think about how much Percy had hurt their parents. His dad was stoic through it all but his mum, she was crushed by his selfish actions and his hurtful words. He wished Charlie had had a chance to rip into him, he'd really make him feel like the arse he was.

Ron had never been very close with Charlie, not as close as the others. He was probably the busiest of all the siblings and when he did see Ron, he acted like more of a father figure then he did a big brother. He would remind Ron to keep his grades up and to make good choices, mind mum and dad, look after Ginny. That was a laugh, Ginny didn't need looking after. Growing up with six older brothers toughened her skin, she could take care of herself. But Ron still felt a bit protective of her. Truth be told, he was closest to Ginny out of all his siblings, he loved her dearly.

Ron chuckled at the thought of Fred and George. They were everything Ron could ask for from two big brothers. He looked up to them, which made their mum a little uneasy. Ever since Ron could walk they used him as the butt of their jokes, tricking him into doing or eating things that might cause him injury or illness, teaching him how to get into mischief. (But it was all in good loving fun!) At the same time, they were there for him and stood by him when he needed them to be and they never had a problem telling him when he as being a complete git. He could only imagine what they would say to him now.

Bill would probably be the only one who wouldn't berate him for his numbskull decision. Bill saw people for who they really were, he was a great judge of character. He never teased Ron or told him what he should or shouldn't do, he just gave good, sound advice, but only when Ron asked for it. Bill never really meddled. Then Ron remembered that Bill had said that he and Fleur weren't going home for Christmas. Maybe he could turn to Bill for help. He was almost out of food and the rate he was going he was either going to get captured or killed or go completely insane from being isolated from the whole world.


	3. Renewed Hope

Renewed Hope

He appeared on a reed covered dune about half a mile away from Shell Cottage. The frigid wind chilled him to the bone as he gazed reluctantly at Bill's home. He hiked his rucksack a little higher up his shoulder, took a cleansing breath and started to make his way toward it. It was late morning, midweek, he wasn't sure if it was Tuesday or Wednesday. The sky was thick with overcast, threatening rain. Please, no more rain, I can't take any more rain. He thought.

When he got to the front door he hesitated, chewing his bottom lip nervously. Many wind chimes hung from the front porch making eery, melancholy sounds in the air around him. The air smelt of the sea salt that he tasted on his lips. He finally knocked.

Bill pulled the door open looking bewildered. His eyes danced over Ron's face and tattered clothes, taking in the shockingly feeble and unwell state his little brother was in. "Ron!" He said, and then looked around at the emptiness beyond him. "Where are the others?"

Ron, looking ashamed said, "Long story."

Bill stepped out onto the porch and pulled Ron into a strong hug.

"Please, please, come in." He said showing him inside. "Sit down in here." He led him to the sofa by the fire. "You look dreadful."

"I feel dreadful."

"What happened? Why are you here?"

Ron didn't feel like going through the whole story. "I left."

"You what?"

"I left, I ran out on them." He replied with frank honesty.

"Well, that's bloody brilliant, Ron. What on earth would make you do that?"

Ron jumped to his feet. "I'm not proud of it, alright!" He shouted. "It isn't exactly the highbrow of my fucking life at the moment!" He was shaking with frustration and his eyes filled with regretful tears.

Bill stood and placed his hands on Ron's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ron, I'm sorry." He said, patting him back down to the sofa. "I shouldn't have said that. You came here seeking my help, not my criticisms. You look half starved. Why don't you go up and have a bath and I'll make you a bite to eat. Fleur's gone to the markets, she won't be home for awhile."

As Ron started his way up the steps he turned to Bill and said, "I can't go home, Bill. I don't want them to know…"

"No worries mate. No one will know you're here."

Ron gave a weak smile in thanks and headed up the steps. He pushed open the door to the guest room and glanced around, feeling like he didn't deserve to be there. He dropped his rucksack in an old antique chair and made his way to the bathroom that connected to the room. He went straight to the tub and started the water. There was a large mirror over the sink that took up almost the whole wall, he couldn't help but notice his reflection. His face looked different, thinner then it did just weeks ago at the stream. His skin was pale and grey and his jaw was dusted with light, uneven stubble. His eyes were bloodshot and paired with dark bags. The steam caused by the hot water pouring out of the tap started to swirl around him and fog the mirror. He pulled off his hat, exposing his inherited, copper colored locks. He was filthy from not having a proper wash in months. He took off his sweater and layers of shirts until he saw his chalky looking skin stretched over his now slight frame, his left shoulder blemished with scars. He was alarmed at his change in appearance when just a few short months ago he was rather healthy and sturdy. His splinch injury, running and hiding from death eaters, and the wicked, emotional turmoil the Horcrux tortured him with had taken its toll. He wiped the fog covered mirror with his hand, "Look at what's become of you." He said to his reflection. Then, remembering the water was running, he turned sharply with a curse and turned it off. He felt guilty enjoying a hot bath while his friends were still out there somewhere on the run, cold, hungry, scared...betrayed. It was a very quick bath.

Ron reluctantly made his way downstairs and noiselessly ambled into the kitchen where Bill was waiting for him. "I know its afternoon…I hope eggs and sausages are okay."

Ron saw the heaping plate of scrambled eggs and sausage links, a bowl of fresh fruit and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "Yes, this is excellent, thank you." Ron said as he sat down to eat.

"Please, explain to me what happened. Are the others alright?" Bill urged.

"When I left they were alright. I believe I would have caught word of it if they were dead or captured. Anyway, as for why I left…" Ron faltered. He couldn't explain about the Horcrux and how it affected him, their quest was confidential. "Things just started to seem so hopeless and unachievable. We had started out well but then we had no idea where to go or what to do next. We were all tired and hungry and confused and I just snapped. Harry and I got into a row and I stormed off." Ron paused, waiting for Bill to say something but he didn't, he just waited for more. "After that I tried to go back but I got attacked by this group of thugs and by the time I made it back, they had already gone. I haven't the faintest idea how to get back to them now."

"Snatchers are what those thugs call themselves," Bill informed him, "taking muggle-borns and blood traitors off to Azkaban. Kingsley was almost taken down by some himself." Ron looked astounded at this information. "There's a jinx they call The Taboo, anyone who uses you-know-who's name freely, without fear like members of The Order, are easily found. It breaks all magical enchantments somehow."

"Blimey." Ron whispered, remembering how he, Harry and Hermione had been found at the pub in Totenham Court. All he could do now was hope that Harry and Hermione didn't use his name again.

Ron ate in silence for a while. When he finished, Bill commented on the small, uneaten portion of food left on his plate. "You're out of practice little brother. Don't worry, Fleur and I will get you back up to eating seconds in no time." A few more minutes of quiet went by before Bill spoke again. "Tell me what this mission is that Dumbledore left you three. I might be able to…"

Ron cut him off, "I can't tell you. We can't tell anyone, Dumbledore's orders."

Bill was not pleased at all with Ron's answer but he didn't push the issue. "Well, you've always been stubbornly loyal, which I believe will lead you back to Harry and Hermione. You'll see them again."

"I'm not sure it would matter if I did. I'm not sure they'll even want me back." Ron said hopelessly. "Plus, Harry and Hermione are…well, at least I think they are…and why wouldn't they be? I mean, Hermione's amazing and beautiful and Harry's a brilliant wizard and a…a better man than me." He said that last part almost to himself. He thought about his dance with Hermione at the wedding. He was man enough to sweep her away from Krum and hold her in his arms. Why wasn't he man enough to kiss her, right then, in front of everyone and tell her how much he truly loved her? He remembered how her hair had smelled like honeysuckle and how soft her skin felt. Her warm brown eyes wrinkled at the corners from her dazzling smile, her checks flushed when he had told her that she looked lovely. And she had, ravishing was more the word. Why didn't he tell her? He was so peeved with himself, now he might never get the chance again.

"You're in love with her." Bill said, Ron said nothing. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Ron. We're all faced with choices everyday, it's impossible to always make the right one. No one does. What really matters is where we end up and who we become as a result of what we've learned from them. And your choices make you no less of a man then Harry. It makes you a different kind of man. Those differences help balance out your relationships." Ron still said nothing, he just sat dubiously. "I know they would be happy to have you return. Things have a way of working themselves out in the end."

When Fleur came home she didn't seem to cast any judgment on him, she was more worried about his thin appearance. Over the next few weeks she did everything she could to bring him back to good health. Ron had gained back at least half the weight he had lost and his blue eyes had regained their lively sparkle. Ron did whatever he could to earn his keep and the rest of the time he tried to make them unaware of his presence.

One evening, Bill came home calling excitedly for both of them. "Ron! Fleur! Come here! I've got some interesting news!" Fleur came out from the kitchen and Ron flew down the stairs. "I talked to Fred and George today…" He explained to them all about the Potterwatch program as he tried to find the right channel on the radio, all of them listening with great enthusiasm.

After dinner Christmas Eve night, Ron stayed in his room not wanting to burden his brother and his new wife with his company. He knew they had been looking forward to spending this first Christmas alone together as a married couple. He fell asleep listening to Potterwatch and woke very early Christmas morning. The static from the radio indicated Potterwatch had ended hours ago. He was upset he had missed the password for the next show. Then he heard a voice, Hermione's voice, speak his name. He thought it was coming from the white noise hissing in the radio speaker. He picked it up and looked at it as if she might climb out of it. Then he heard her mumble on about a wand and he realized her voice wasn't coming from the radio, it was coming from his pocket. He reached his hand in his pocket and pulled out the deluminater, hearing the last of her enchanting voice echoing inside of it. He shook it, hoping to make it bring back her words. Then he clicked it. The light went out as usual but another one appeared outside his window. It was a bluish, pulsing, soft glowing light. It reminded him instantly of a portkey and wondered if that was in fact, exactly what the light was. Had the deluminater finally showed him the real secret to its power?

His heart thumping excitedly, he quickly packed up his rucksack and got dressed. He snuck down the stairs and found a quill and ink and a spare piece of parchment. His hands were shaking with anticipation as he wrote: 'I found a way back. Thanks for everything. Love to all. Ron.' He slipped quietly out the backdoor to the garden where the bobbing orb waited for him. It floated behind the shed and he followed it obediently. It hovered for a moment or two then it moved slowly toward him until it floated straight into his chest. It felt surprisingly hot. He supposed this should have concerned him but he didn't fear it. He knew exactly what to do next, so he disapparated.

He appeared on the side of a snow covered hill, flurries dancing all around him. He walked about for a while, calling out Hermione's and Harry's name every now and then. He made a camp and a fire to warm himself and stayed the night. The entire next day he pressed on, aimlessly looking for any sign of his friends. His mind was buzzing with mixed thoughts of hope and anxiety. When the sun started to set he clicked the deluminater and the glowing orb appeared, disappearing once again into his chest, flooding him with extreme warmth.

This time he appeared in a thick forest. He decided that he wouldn't venture off to far, he'd look for them in the general area and wait for Harry or Hermione to show themselves. This went on for a few hours and he was beginning to think he'd missed them again. He was certain the deluminater would bring him close to where they should be. He propped himself against a tree, wrapping up in a blanket, wishing he wasn't so alone. It didn't take long for it to become pitch dark. Then, he saw a soft, silvery glow materialize into a doe a short distance from him. It started to walk away and he curiously followed. He stayed a cautious distance from it, not knowing where it came from or why it was there, naturally it caused some concern. Then he saw Harry. He stopped dead in his tracks, thinking Harry was a vision as well, but no, he was as real as he was himself. He couldn't believe his eyes. He was elated to see him alive and whole, he wanted to yell out his name, run to him, even hug him. But he was plagued with the thought that Harry might not be so pleased to see him, so he contained his excitement and remained in the shadows. He didn't quite understand what was happening. Had Harry summoned the patronus? From what he remembered, he thought Harry's took the form of a dear of some kind. But, why would he do that? And why did he leave Hermione all alone? He considered going back and trying to find the tent, but if her enchantments worked so well that he couldn't see their camp then it was likely that no one else could, either. So, the next question was, why was Harry venturing out into the dark forest alone, why not bring her with him?

He continued to follow at a distance when the patronus and Harry stopped at a small frozen pool. The doe disintegrated into nothingness, leaving it pitch black for a few moments. Finally, Ron started to see clearly enough to make out Harry's form in the darkness. He saw Harry wave his wand and mutter something he couldn't make out, which was followed by a loud cracking sound he assumed was made by breaking ice. Then Harry started removing his clothes. _Going for a midnight swim in the dead of winter? Has he gone mad?_ Ron thought to himself. Harry stepped to the opening in the ice and jumped in only to his shoulders. It looked as if he was trying to reach something on the bottom of the pool. Then, after a minute, he dove under. Ron held his breath in anticipation, hoping Harry would surface soon. But he didn't. Panic stricken, Ron ran towards the pool. He thought he saw something move between two trees, but he didn't have the time to worry about it.

Once he got to the ice, he saw the sword sparkling at the bottom and now understood the reason for Harry's act of insanity. Harry was struggling, air bubbles were exploding on the surface of the water. _He jumped in with that bleeding Horcrux around his neck? It'll be the death of him!_ Ron was now certain that it was all supposed to happen this way. If he hadn't left, he would be inside the tent with Hermione at this very moment, both fast asleep, unknowing that Harry would be drowning and the bottom of some frozen pond. He and Hermione would never know what happened. Perhaps this was part of Dumbledore's plan all along. _Bloody brilliant, Dumbledore was._ Bill was right; things did sometimes have a way of working themselves out in the end. Feeling surer about himself then he ever had before, he jumped in fully clothed, following what he was sure he was destined to do and saved his best friends life.


End file.
